


No Simple Answers

by Like_a_Hurricane



Series: Pernicious Prompting [25]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Frostiron Month, Loki has crossed paths with the Avengers several times since the end of Thor 2 in this one, M/M, Werewolf!Tony, it is suggested that Loki faked his death a third time after Thor 2, made up things about werewolves, prompt: AU, while apparently still impersonating Odin on the throne, yes he was just that much of a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1965432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Like_a_Hurricane/pseuds/Like_a_Hurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark knew more about the name Loki than most mortals long before Asgard banished Thor down to earth for a while, but then again, most mortals aren’t the blessed of Fenrir, also known as wolf’s-kin, or werewolves.</p><p>Tony was relieved, honestly, when it turned out palladium exposure at high doses fully suppressed all signs of his more inhuman heritage. Except when there were problems. In this case, Loki might be the problem to ruin his long no-shifting streak entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark has always kept a number of secrets about his personal life more secretive than highest-level security within S.H.I.E.L.D., and had a tendency to make sure all such secrets left no evidence that could be traced back to himself.

It had been easier, actually, since Afghanistan. Ever since he came back from the desert with a glow over his heart that was almost, but not entirely, unlike moonlight. It wasn’t the light that did it, in the end, though. It was the palladium.

Heavy metal poisoning has always been a problem for people of his kind. Usually, it was silver, but there were other metals too that could have some unpleasant side-effect. Silver or Mercury to bring death, Cadmium or Palladium to stop inhumanly-rapid healing or shape-shifting, Gold or Platinum to sicken and weaken. The Stark line had always had that peculiar problem: being both talented in the working of such metals, and prone to being destroyed by them.

Some of the shrapnel over his heart had enough palladium in it to effectively render him... human. The disguise and escape from his true nature that he’d dreamt of as a teenager––no paranoia around the full moon; no irrepressibly keen senses giving him more unnecessary details about every single passerby in a crowd than he could fully decipher in a lifetime, smothering him; no worrying about Pep’s safety if she made his heart race particularly fast––had been made manifest, so of course it was literally killing him one millimeter at a time. Then, when it wasn’t (or while he had thought, incorrectly, that it wasn’t) killing him, he’d been... well, living like a normal human.

It sort of sucked. He couldn’t smell _anything_ , and could swear he had gone legitimately deaf in one ear until he’d had JARVIS test. The results had been... within normal human ranges, all across the board.

It was _maddening_.

He had just started to get used to it when symptoms from the palladium poisoning started to appear. Tony had thought they might be further symptoms of the mundane human condition, until JARVIS brought attention to it, and explained his concerns. That had gotten the inventor really paying attention.

There then ensued a series of bugs and patches about the whole issue. Problem one: poisoning from the palladium cores burning out. Solution one: synthesize a previously unknown (except to dad, the bastard) element, make a new reactor core from it, live to fight another day. Problem two: with palladium levels declining, starting to get symptoms of severe agitation around full moons. Solution two: add just the right micro-amounts of palladium to daily vitamins which, combined with the remaining palladium in the shrapnel between the reactor and his heart, kept the symptoms at bay. Problem three: almost get brain taken over by a melodramatic dictatorial-seeming trickster god. Solution three: conveniently situate the arc reactor between heart and mind-control-dosing glowstick-of-destiny, forever bringing into doubt what particular factor actually provided immunity from the scepter’s effects. Problem four: get rid of the reactor and the shrapnel both. Solution four: increase daily palladium dosage in supplements.

Of course, one of the above problems was not like the others.

Neither was Problem five: on an alien planet with two moons, apparently daily doses of palladium don’t have all the kick they need. Solution five: ???

“Step away from him,” Loki bellowed suddenly, his voice full of command and ferocity. “All of you, move. Thor, get them back.”

“What are you doing out of cuffs?” Clint demanded.

“Doing away with the pretense of letting you ridiculous fools think yourselves capable of holding me,” the trickster snapped at them all, looking more than a little feral around the edges. “What is the name of your construct, Stark?”

Tony was staring straight at the moons overhead. Sometime, he’d have to wonder how exactly his kind had developed this particular affliction only under particular silvery shades of light, of a sort that reflect of the moons of not only earth but other worlds too, still strongly enough to so sing within his blood.

“Stark, can you hear me?” snarled a loud voice so close-sounding that Tony flinched, but when he turned, teeth bared, the trickster was still several feet away, and there was a look in his eye that held the inventor very, very still. “Your construct, the intellect which operates your suit’s various automated functions, what is he called?”

“JARVIS!” Natasha supplied, looking at once curious, and like she was considering looking away just to save him from having to share whatever he was experiencing with yet another set of eyes.

“What’s going on?” Steve demanded.

“Easy, Captain,” Thor said sternly. “There is none better than Loki for this. Our friend is not well. He has been poisoned from the looks of it.”

_Poisoned._

Tony suddenly tasted metal on his tongue. So much metal, and acid, and blood and bile. He gagged with it, coughing and spitting out something unpleasant. When he looked, the ground glittered a little more than mere moisture should’ve accounted for. His body was rejecting all the palladium left in it. He wasn’t just slipping. He was _waking up_ for the first time in _years_.

Oh, how it felt.

 _How'd I ever forget this?_ Tony thought, lifting his head to feel the wind and catch it in his nose, savoring the smells of grass and familiar, trusted friends... save one. The inventor’s eyes snapped open again and he focused intently on Loki, who didn’t smell of friend, or of foe, just then. He smelled...

Wow, Loki smelled _fantastic_.

Tony took a step closer to the trickster before he could stop himself.

“JARVIS?” Loki asked. “Please remove yourself from here. I’m certain you can already feel that his skeleton is not behaving as it should, and if this armor lingers it will only injure him.”

The inventor could hear the words, and even had some idea of what they meant. They meant the stifling metal around him was being addressed, discussed, and when it pulled away from his body he sighed heavily in relief, and stalked another step closer to the god of lies, who only continued to hold his stare, unmoving and relaxed and yet not passive. Loki was tense and focused, and that... meant something.

Tony lowered his head slightly, chin tucking slightly down.

“No,” Loki insisted, starting to reach out.

The inventor’s eyes, when they met the trickster’s again, were poison-yellow edged in gold and black, as though the human’s dark gaze had been pushed out, made thin, a bare veneer of civility long lost. The rest of him remained mostly the same, save for his posture––more arched forward––and his skin appearing to slowly darken as fur began to appear, making his skin prickle and tingle at how familiar and alien it now felt, after all this time. He growled low and bold, angling his shoulders to show that while he wouldn’t initiate a fight, he wouldn’t submit without one either.

“All this time,” the trickster murmured. “I had wondered.”

Tony tilted his head, the dark rims of his irises seeming to thicken for a moment as he focused more intently on the god’s words. Something seemed important about them. “Wondered what?” he growled.

“I had thought it might be your reactor, until this last trip of yours to Asgard. I’ve studied the reactor in this armor of yours, and it has nothing within it that could have stopped Thanos’ borrowed scepter from piercing your mind. That left so few other options, but I never would have guessed it to be this,” mused the trickster. “You’re blessed of Fenrir, from a line of Midgardian wolf’s-kin.”

Tony tried to shake off the disorientation, but it lingered. He growled again despite himself when Loki moved still a little closer. “What?”

“You know. You’ve always known.”

“No, I stopped. I’d kept it stopped.”

Loki’s brow furrowed then. He looked genuinely stricken. “You brought this upon _yourself_? Intentionally?”

Tony offered a half-hearted, broken sort of grin. “I don’t see you showing your true skin either, but what’s a little well-understood self-resentment amongst monsters, right?” He then frowned. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean––fuck. You’re not like me.” Bracing for the next thrum of moon-tide up his spine, he wasn’t expecting to feel a firm grip on the back of his neck, but when he snarled it quickly became a choke-hold that cut off his air and Loki’s boots kicked his legs out from under him, sending them both to the ground with a thud, but Tony certainly didn’t come out on top.

He was being pinned down by a really heavy trickster god, who continued to squeeze with that choke-hold. Loki’s face was close to his ear.

“Let go, Stark. This is not your territory.”

“F-fuck you, I’m not a dog.”

“Nor am I,” the god assured, and then emitted a snarl more lupine than human-like, and snapped too-sharp teeth sharply into the inventor’s ear.

Tony lost it, then. The last thread of his control snapped and his bodysuit was entirely shredded as the moon took him and he flung Loki away––except not, because the god slammed into him so hard that his skull cracked against stone before it even quite finished changing shape, sending agony through him the likes of which he’d never before dreamed of, until suddenly he could see again, but all he could see was dark fur and a few distant stars, scarcely visible through the long bristles.

There were teeth around his throat, and he was helpless, and survival instincts took over from there. He went boneless, head lolling, and a high, pleading whine escaping his throat as he stayed as still as possible, save for little ways he suddenly found to shrink further in on himself.

A deafening growl rumbled down from the larger wolf over him. _You will not try that again. You will not provoke me. You will be still_.

Now fully lost in wolf-shape––unusually tall and strong and not-quite-all-lupine his form might otherwise appear, it was still unmistakably that of a wolf, in shades of reddish-grey and brown, and pale sandy not-quite white underbelly, save for how very distinctly pale the center of his chest had always been, long before any reactor had settled there on his human-shape––Tony whined again and pressed his throat slightly up into the other’s hold, feeling Loki’s jaws tighten just slightly, then relax and open just enough to let him slip free when the trickster’s head raised.

Loki’s eyes were the same green. Tony remembered, when he was younger, that colors had been hard to recognize in this shape, but that had improved after adolescence. Now, that green looked damn vivid against the otherwise dark visage that surrounded them. _Of course_ Loki was pure blue-black and supernaturally elegant, even in the form of a ferocious beast.

The ferocious beast in question then licked the side of his face quickly, and lifted his head again, head cocked slightly to one side, as though awaiting an answer.

Tony blinked. If his human side might’ve been a bit testy and socially awkward after too many days in the lab at a stretch, it should’ve been no surprise to the inventor that the usual confidence and fearlessness he had remembered feeling in this form, in the distant past, had turned somehow into nerves and uncertainty. Even before Afghanistan, it had been a very, very long time since he’d run with a pack, or even just any other wolf at all.

Loki snorted, sounding just as droll and annoyed as he usually did in his more commonly used bipedal form. He leaned in again, this time licking from Tony’s throat, up along the side of his face to his ear before pulling back and inspecting him again, tail wagging slightly and...

Tail. Wagging.

 _Oh. Right_. **_Play._** _That’s a thing._

 _How did I ever forget that’s a thing_ , the wolfish part of him thought, distinctly appalled by the very notion to such a degree that the idea that playing with this particular other wolf might not be advisable didn't even occur to him. The fact it was Loki genuinely didn’t matter anymore, because it required more patience than the wolf had left to recall what exactly a ‘Loki’ even was.

What mattered was that the taller, heavier black wolf was looking at him expectantly, with a tail wag, and ears perked forward in interest. What mattered was that this other wolf smelled amazing, and wanted to be friends, and looked like he would be perfect to rub up against, for all sorts of possible reasons that Tony would only be allowed a potential invitation to attempt if he was friendly too.

So. _Play._

Had it always felt like he was exploding with something disarmingly like innocent joyous mirth as he sprung into the air, bouncing his forepaws off of another wolf’s shoulder hard before running away with a bark, knowing he’d be followed, and be really chased. Hearing Loki’s long, determined treads behind him, Tony let his tongue loll out of one corner of his mouth and picked up speed until it burned to breath and the moon sang in his blood and everything within his vision under the silvery moonlight. He yelped in outrageously pleased and playful surprise when one of Loki’s heavy paws swiped his hind feet out from under him mid-stride, sending Tony sprawling and rolling as he tried to prevent the larger wolf from pinning him again.

~~

If either of them were aware of most of the Avengers except Thor staring at them with jaws hanging open in shock, they showed no sign of it. The running had gotten them only about fifty yards away, but given the sheer size of both wolves, it still wasn’t difficult to tell they were wrestling playfully like giant puppies all of a sudden. The audible ridiculous-sounding yelps and yips and occasional barks were also a factor; for a while they were the only thing audible around the Avengers except for the awkward silence that had set in shortly after Tony-the-wolf had done some sort of acrobatic, yet clumsy back-flip and run full-tilt from Loki with only a taunting bark sent back toward the trickster. The silence had only grown thicker since.

“What the fuck just happened?” Clint asked, sincerely baffled.

“Why did none of you know that Tony is wolf’s-kin?” Thor asked suddenly. “And furthermore, how?! They are not known to be the most subtle shifters in the nine realms, by even the most fanciful imaginations in Asgardian judiciary counsels.”

An awkward pause ensued.

Thor sighed. “I... cannot explain that joke without a long history lesson. I recommend that we move on.”

“You just want to be able to tell Loki you said it, without him catching you in a lie,” Clint accused, “don’t you?”

“I neither confirm nor deny,” rumbled the Thunderer. “My friends, truly, I cannot understand this. Are wolf’s-kin not widely known in Midgard? Is there not a documentary about a group of their typical adolescents on the M-T-V?”

“Werewolves, you mean?” Bruce asked suddenly, climbing down to join them. He was dressed solely in pants of a Stark Industries-patented material that allowed him to Hulk out without loss of all modesty. “By the way, that was a long walk. Why did Tony become a wolf-man?”

“Even _you_ are ignorant?” Thor cried, sincerely distressed.

“Thor, we consider them about as mythical as gods,” Bruce said sharply. “We’re still catching up on that. Humor us, okay? Only a few centuries ago, we still thought the sun revolved around us.”

“Don’t let my brother hear you admit that, or you may never cease to regret it,” said the thunder god quietly, but with a stern sort of urgency.

“He’s aware,” Natasha said. “He borrowed Stark’s phone at some point-”

“Pick-pocketed expertly, actually. I’m a little impressed,” Clint added.

“Is that what he was laughing about on the way here?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” sighed the two former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

“How did he wind up on that topic, again?” the archer muttered.

“Tony was trying to explain the lyrics of Bohemian Rhapsody for some inane reason I don’t care to remember,” Natasha explained, in professionally level tones of resigned boredom.

“I’m glad I don’t remember that part of the flight,” Bruce said. “So. Tony turns into what appears at first glance to be a slightly oversized gray wolf, but on closer inspection seems to have a slightly bulkier overall profile, bone structure more akin to that of a dire wolf, and thus heavier and stronger. Also broad hind feet, if you look. I’ll bet he can stand upright, with some effort... if he ever stops, um...” He hesitated visibly as he stared over the shoulders of the rest of the Avengers, who were all facing him. “If I were to tell you he’s enthusiastically licking Loki’s face, would you recommend that we maybe should we stop him?”

“My brother has long experience with wolves. Hel’s mother Angrboða used to raise some wolves of old Jotunnheim bloodlines, some larger than horses. His son Fenrir ran with them alongside Hel for so long that he decided to make it his natural form, when he gained his soul,” Thor explained. “This is normal behavior, for wolf’s kin around Loki. They have always been fond of him.”

“That would explain so much,” Clint muttered, then swore when Natasha elbowed him sharply. “Aww come on!”

The thunderer only raised an eyebrow at them both and turned to look over his shoulder back towards Loki and the still-wolfish Tony Stark. Seeing his brother let the other wolf almost roll him back, only to struggle at the last minute and send them both rolling and wrestling and growling anew again, he smiled all too fondly. “I haven’t seen my nephew and niece in far too long, I think.”

“Back to Tony though, Thor, how did we not notice? He doesn’t... well, let’s go over the usual ticks,” Bruce said. “Let me know which of these are bullshit, and which are true: full moons cause them to change?”

“It is somewhat more complicated than that. Many can control the change, but there are also many poisons and other issues which can weaken that control,” Thor said slowly. “In this case, I believe there is far more, and more intense moonlight than on earth, but within the same color spectrums. That would trigger within his system enough stimuli all at once to overcome whatever it was that stopped––” He hesitated. “When I first met all of you, did he not have a device in his chest?”

“Yes,” the others assured him.

“It was embedded there? In flesh and bone?” he inquired.

The others looked to Bruce for final confirmation and he nodded. “He still has metal in there. Or he did, before, uh, he fell out there. I noticed the moon glinting off some bits of metal in the remains of his bodysuit out there, and JARVIS confirmed over the comms where it came from.” He cleared his throat. “So apparently they can survive a lot of puncture-wounds and skeletal damage?” he asked, in a carefully even tone. “Such as those caused by his body rejecting foreign metal and just growing new bone?”

Thor nodded. “Yes. You noticed that too, then? That he has not done that... until now.” He ran his hand back and forth across the end of his chin for a moment. “He must have had the poison in his system for many years. No wonder this place...” He looked up at the two full moons in the skye, bigger and brighter than the moon of earth, until the night looked more like grey dawn interrupted by flashes of gold. “No wonder it was too much for the low dosage.”

“Dosage,” said the biochemist. “You think he was poisoning himself?”

“It is... not uncommon, in places throughout the galaxy where wolf’s-kin are not respected, or where they must travel in space for any durations, for them to take doses of certain metals, to prevent the change, but I believe it prevented the change as well as healing, and over time could weaken them considerably.”

“To ‘mortal-levels’ of weak?” Natasha challenged softly.

“In the places in the galaxy that such rules as these apply, humans have never survived the journey there,” Thor said gravely. “I know your strength, my friends, but I hope you never need be the first to survive, for it would not be kind to you, and I prefer you all whole and psychologically intact as you more usually are.”

The others were all more chilled by that than they cared to admit.

“Moving on,” Steve said quickly.

“Palladium,” Bruce sighed.

“It is in your myths?” Thor asked, pleased by its veracity if it was, and undeterred when his friends all shook their heads in response.

“But that is one of the metals that does this?” the captain verified.

“It is, along with high doses of cadmium,” Thor confirmed. “Silver, and mercury are lethal. Others do... generally less harm?”

“You forgot?” Clint asked.

“Loki would usually interrupt me by this point,” he admitted.

“Well, he’s still quite occupied,” Bruce said. He decided not to bring the Thunderer’s attention to the fact Loki now seemed to be grooming the ruff of the inventor in wolf’s form in a more relaxed manner than before. The inventor didn’t seem to be struggling much anymore under the one dark leg around his middle, arching into the sensation at the back of his neck contently. _Nope_ , the scientist decided. _Not saying a single word_.

“He suffered chronic palladium poisoning to various degrees ever since Afghanistan,” Natasha said. “And once he got the reactor and shrapnel taken out, S.H.I.E.L.D. did confirm some of the shrapnel was palladium too.”

“But after that?” Steve asked.

Bruce smirked self-deprecatingly. “Really, Captain?”

“Bruce?” he sounded disconcerted by the other man’s bitterness.

“Nothing, never mind it, sorry,” the doctor sighed. “Look, if I could take a bit of palladium with my vitamins in the morning to make sure I didn’t go green in the middle of a shopping visit that happened to get interrupted by some baddie of the week? I’d do it in a heart-beat, Rogers. I shouldn’t resent you because you don’t know that quite the same, from your experiences. It’s luck, same as genetics and the lottery.” _You beat the former and are immortal enough that long-term investments can make you more than the lottery ever could, in a few decades_ , he didn’t add. He wasn’t a jealous man. Sometimes the Hulk got to feeling a little inferior, though, and no one ever benefitted from that delusion being encouraged in himself, too. He took in a breath slowly and let it out, smiling the whole time. “Sorry, Steve.”

“It’s fine,” the super-soldier assured, sounding a little concerned, but willing to let it go if Bruce was certain he was okay.

The scientist nodded reassuringly and returned his stare to the two wolves. He sniggered, immediately prompting the others to all turn and look.

At some point during their wrestling and occasional brief sprints (interrupted by tackling as those had been) they had rolled almost back to where they had started, much closer and within better view of the overseeing Avengers. That was how Clint wound up with video on his phone of Tony-the-wolf nuzzling and snuggling up against the chest and side of an increasingly incredulous-looking Loki-the-wolf.

“Okay that... I will admit that’s really adorable,” Natasha muttered. “And now I need to see a dentist. My teeth are killing me.”

“So... Tony is a werewolf, then,” Steve mused. “I’m guessing the poison thing should probably stop.”

“In the long term, it could severely shorten his potential life-span,” Thor said.

The others turned their heads all his way nearly in unison.

“Your kind of life-span, or human kind of life-span?” Clint asked, for clarification. “Don’t count Steve, sorry Steve.”

The old soldier waved it off. “Statistical anomaly, I’m used to it.”

“So that should stop,” Natasha agreed. “Which leaves us will full moons, and Thor... I’m guessing we can’t rent your brother, considering you can’t even keep him cuffed very long?” She shot him a look and did a double-take. “You don’t look guilty enough. You _really_ weren’t in on it?”

“I honestly have been waiting for him to vanish since breaking out of the cuffs, which I did not know he could do so easily, I swear to you all,” Thor insisted. “I don’t actually know why he is here, or how. I only heard two days before that he had been found alive and brought back into the dungeons. Odin forbid me to see him, until you all arrived in the palace.”

“Something is fishy in the state of Asgard,” Clint snorted.

“And methinks Loki is our fishmonger,” Nat chimed in.

“I believed him truly dead. Again,” Thor sighed. “I really need to stop falling for that. Clearly he’s had, as they say on earth, his ‘three strikes’ yes?”

Steve patted his shoulder. “We’ve all been there, buddy. Well, Nat and I have.”

Clint shot Natasha a look until she sighed, “and Clint. Sorry, Clint.”

“Accepted. For now,” the archer muttered.

“If I may?” JARVIS suggested, from the suit now hovering its way over to them. “Tony had already worked out the question of where Loki has been and what he has been up to since his most recent apparent death, the first day we arrived here.”

“And he didn’t share it?” the assassin sighed, her voice resigned.

“He may have been planning a means to prevent his immediate escape upon discovery,” JARVIS said. “I think, while Loki is sufficiently distracted-”

“I already heard you, JARVIS,” Loki called, in a voice on a bit rougher and more strange than his usual one. “You’re upwind, you know!”

“Oh,” the AI said. “Damn.”

The rest of the Avengers all made faces of varying levels of dismay.

“Odd that he planned this whole thing to foil Tony’s attempt to catch him, and make sure all of us were out here not prepared to take him on while Tony is... a wolf, and Odin asked him to leave Mjolnir at-” Clint started to ask, then suddenly stopped. “Holy shit, he’s been Odin. You son of a bitch, where’s the real one?!” he shouted.

“I’ll never tell,” Loki called back.

“Brother,” Thor growled suddenly.

Tony growled back, low and surprisingly furious.

Of course, he did so with all but one eye under Loki’s chest and forepaws, so it was still a little muffled and ridiculous.

Loki-the-wolf appeared a little surprised and baffled too. “Oh dear. Unexpected.”

“Let slip what hold you have on Anthony Stark, brother!”

“I did nothing yet!” the trickster snapped, with all the reflexes of a younger sibling who never feels like he’s going to get time for a proper word in edgewise. “No, really,” he then added, in drier tones. “I actually didn’t.”

“Why exactly is he, uh...” Bruce looked for words for quite how ridiculously tangled up Tony had deliberately made himself, going so far as to burrow slightly under Loki wherever he decided the larger wolf should be covering him like a blanket. In the end, he was struck by another question before even finishing the first. “Wait, why are you tolerating this exactly?”

“... He’s one of Fenrir’s,” Loki said, as though that explained everything. “I never had followers or a tribe who associated particularly with myself, but my son has been more popular down the centuries, and I take it upon myself to generally be kind to those who consider him (albeit incorrectly, for I only have two grand-children by him, and they do not yet have their own offspring) their ancestor, and in doing so foster belief in him. He adores them himself, of course, and does what he can.”

Thor nodded sagely, with a hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth: a shadow of old absurd fondness, now grown a little too wary.

Tony sat up again suddenly, his ears and nose all pointed toward the planet’s twin moons. A low, longing whine escaped him.

Instantly, Loki stood.

“What is it?” Natasha asked.

“It is their nature,” the trickster said. “Make camp, brother. I will bring back the Avengers’ wolf’s-kin before noon tomorrow.”

“Brother!”

Loki hesitated, just as Tony bolted off running, and swore. “What?!”

“Is father alive?”

The trickster snarled at him, and ran after Tony, loping fast in a longer, smoother gate than the other wolf. It was clear to the others that the god could more than keep up with their... werewolf.

They all looked at each other, exchanging questioning looks.

“Thoughts?” Bruce prompted.

“Odin’s alive,” Thor said. “Otherwise he would have injured me more by saying that he was dead. He knows that very well.”

“Good. That just leaves... finding him,” the scientist reassured vaguely.

“This explains why Tony has been very moody at the same time each month for the past few months, actually,” Nat mused. “Maybe he was developing an immunity to the palladium, in such small daily doses. It’s possible this was inevitable. This might be one of the safest places it could’ve happened to Tony, I mean... Manhattan has it bad enough just with us living there.”

The others all murmured sound agreement with that.

“Did he really want us to ‘make camp’ here?” Clint asked dubiously.

“I did wonder why we were saddled with packs full enough of supplies for more than a day’s camping,” Thor mused.

The others all looked at the fairly compact leather satchels they carried, except Bruce, who had handed his off to Steve after Hulking against some large stone ogres on their way to this meadow. The scientist just smiled, dryly amused. “Some things about magic, I admit I do appreciate.”

~~

Tony-the-wolf was still adjusting to the lingering after-effects of being so long suppressed under palladium. He felt like he had gone from a silent film from the black-and-white era to a rock concert in high-definition, but with the moon, and miles of tall grass and rolling hills, and a playmate chasing him every step of the way.

 _How long will you follow me?_ He asked without asking.

The steady, tireless tread of the larger black wolf was the only answer he got.

He tried not to let it overjoy him, though he couldn’t say why. It made him stumble, it made him nearly fall down the side of a hill that was more dirt than grass on too steep an incline, but quickly got his grip again and launched himself ever forward and up and _away, away, away_.

But he wasn’t alone. He expected Loki to tackle him again, but the larger wolf only caught up and ran alongside him a while, both of them leaping and running as fast as they were capable, just because they could.

 _How long will you follow me?_ He asked without asking, once more, stopping and darting and changing direction, leaping up along a fallen tree and into a copse of trees. Again, Loki followed.

He bumped shoulders with the other wolf when the trickster caught up once more. When the larger wolf bumped back, Tony struggled not to lose his footing, and heart a huffing snort from Loki, who then nosed at him sharply, in two places, somehow getting him right back up to speed all the faster.

Tony was delighted, and barked appreciation.

Loki huffed at him and sped up a bit further, making the inventor struggle to keep up for the rest of their run.

~~

It was only an hour past dawn when Tony awoke to the smell of something delicious-smelling being fried nearby. It took him a while to realize he was being leaned on like a piece of furniture. When he tried to sit up, he felt long cold fingers grip the back of his neck and heard a whisper of, “ _Lie still, and do not move,_ ” in one ear. He could almost feel Loki’s breath with it, despite the god facing away from him, toward...

Toward the sounds and smells of an entire small village town, unfamiliar plant life, and unfamiliar––everything except Loki.

 _I smell like Loki all over what the fuck happened?!_ He took a slow, deep breath in through his nose and managed not to exhale loudly and weep with relief to realize he and Loki smelled a bit like one another and vegetation, and a bit of sweat but not...

Well, actually, why did that feel almost like disappointment?

Was it related to how much he didn’t like the fact Loki seemed to be wearing some kind of cotton tunic, where the god’s lower back rested against Tony’s naked hip. It was much nicer where their skin was touching: where the god’s arm rested along Tony’s naked back, and Loki’s other wrist brushed Tony’s bare thigh...

It was then, and only then, that Tony belatedly realized he was naked and lying face-down in some grass and (under his face only) a bit of deer-pelt.

“You are... such a dick,” the inventor groaned.

“I wanted to know for certain why I stopped the scepter from seizing control of your mind, actually. I admit, I’m quite relieved.”

“What?”

“I have failsafes built into the architecture of my mind and my magic,” the god explained simply. “I am not to hurt my own, or those important to my own. Had you attacked me, rather than merely threatened me that day, I would have seized control of you easily, but you did not. Thus, my failsafe’s for the wolf’s-kin who once called themselves and their offspring such as you ‘blessed of Fenrir’ kicked in.”

“Why won’t you let me up?”

“I’ve persuaded some alarmed local villagers, a few of whom are related to the ogres your Hulk destroyed earlier, that I’ve defeated and incapacitated you,” Loki said.

“Why?” Tony groaned.

“Well, it was that or wake you, and you were a wolf at the time. I cannot be held responsible for finding you adorable.”

The inventor snorted, trying to hold back laughter, then gave up and chuckled outright. “Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“So we could’ve stopped the invasion with wolf puppies from the local zoo in my tower, probably?” he asked.

“Why would you endanger them that way?” Loki snapped.

“Holy shit, you’re really serious.”

“If you saw the image of your own child so imperiled, even if you knew that wasn’t them, Mr. Stark, let me assure you that you would not find this so amusing.”

“Sorry, okay? I swear I’d never threaten pups like that. I wouldn’t be able to do it even if I was pretty damn sure it’d work. My instincts would run haywire, and I’d possibly bite someone, and that would be a PR disaster in the making, let me tell you.”

“You’re handling your return to inhumanity fairly well.”

The inventor seemed to shrink slightly at that reminder. “Can we not call it that?”

“Relax,” the god assured. “You’re as human as you were before. You experienced it for quite long enough that you can clearly remember the differences, can’t you?”

“I... can.”

“How do you feel now, in comparison?”

“Less grey,” he admitted quietly. “More... aware.” He shut his eyes and drank in all of the glorious input from just his nose and his ears. It was like a symphony about the nearby town made embarrassingly sincere, in good and bad ways both. He knew more than he ever wanted to about some of the residents, but he also knew their gardens were all in bloom and there was little or no sickness or ill-health within the town. They smelled healthy, and of earth and spices and fresh herbs. “Fuck, I didn’t think I missed it this bad, dammit.”

“I do not understand how you did that,” Loki said quietly.

Tony tilted his head enough to glance up at the god’s face. “Really?”

“I don’t!”

The mortal huffed. “That’s stupid. Especially for you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry, am I the only one who remembers the Antarctica incident with you?”

The god went stiff as stone, then.

“Yeah, you remember the one. Norn stones sending us all over the planet chasing your ass down, and you got tripped up by ice for solely cosmetic- _Ayiip_!” he ended with a yelp, as the grip on the back of his neck became suddenly painful.

“You hardly know the monsters who were my ancestors, Stark. Do not pretend that you do.”

“What do you think my earthly ancestors were like?” Tony snarled, surprising the god enough that the grip on his neck loosened a fraction. “Both sides of my family, and I lucked out to get the only even half-sane offspring from either pack, and do you even want to know how nasty they got at each funeral? Do you know how many cousins and uncles and occasional aunts of mine have met violent ends because they hit a particularly bad full moon one month? That’s not even getting to why each pack came to the ‘States in the first place, and what they were fleeing from back in their native lands. Don’t tell me about monstrous ancestors, honey! For me, if they aren’t considered insane killers, they were politicians, arms dealers, or soldier, most of them. You?”

“It is different-”

“The fuck it is, at least you still only walk on two legs,” Tony snarled. “The only difference here is that you’re a shifter too, albeit a different kind, and you’ve always known your son’s worth. Good for you, for not fucking up like Odin clearly did with you, but face it: the only reason you consider Jotunns monstrous is because you were told they were monsters when you were little, same as I grew up hearing about the _big bad wolf_ ,” he concluded, letting his voice rumble a bit inhumanly on the last few words.

Loki glanced around them quickly to make sure there were no immediate witnesses within hearing range of that, then looked back down at the inventor. “I will make you a deal, then, Tony Stark.”

“Wait what?”

“I will accept that you are right, if you will do the same, and cease to hate this part of yourself, and fear it to such an extent as to feel a need to poison yourself to be rid of it. You could live for so much longer, if you can accept this as part of the deal, and you have within you such potential that I would see what you can do in this universe, with just a little more time,” Loki said softly.

Tony stared up at him blankly, turning his head a bit after another few glances confirmed no more local gawkers were around. “You’re not nearly this nice to just humans.”

“No. I am not.”

“Why should I trust it then?”

Loki glanced away quickly, and sat back up, arms folding across his chest.

Despite himself, the inventor lowered his chin closer to the ground and shifted slightly, seeking more contact. “Loki-”

“What are you even doing, Stark?” the god snapped.

“Hm?”

“You’re attempting to cuddle me.”

Tony realized that trying to curl up a bit more so that more of his stomach and side was in contact with Loki, in the hopes of taking back some of the sting of his words, really was an awful lot like cuddling. “Um. So I am.”

Loki growled and moved to pull away.

The inventor wasn’t actually sure how he managed to hook an arm about the trickster’s hips and yank him back down just in time to throw off the god’s balance. He didn’t bother worrying about it, and that felt good. _I missed you too, heightened proprioception_. “Hey. I’m not done with you.”

“Unhand me.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Nope. Not letting go.”

“ _Why_ , Stark?”

“If you weren’t sure about the Fenrir thing, why exactly did you think, all these years, that you let me off the hook with the scepter?”

“I couldn’t form any concrete conclusions,” Loki said sharply.

Tony began to smirk. “Oh, did I fascinate you?” He managed to curl himself around Loki and use the element of surprise to knock him off-balance and pin him down with just a bit of inhuman strength. “Hey.”

Loki glared up at him and growled.

“Hey.”

“What, Stark?”

“You smell amazing.”

The god shot him an incredulous look. “Pardon?”

“It’s been driving me crazy, actually, but I couldn’t entirely figure it out, because human sense of smell really kind of sucks. I just thought I had random urges to lean up against walls in the hopes you pin me against them, aided by occasional dream-life interactions,” Tony explained casually. “It might’ve just been that my brain was registering just how damned good you smell and wanted to get me closer to you, but I think it might have also been your voice, and how you use your words to destroy people inside and out, and how playing mental chess with you is one of my favorite pastimes, and I know it’s the same for you, because you pull more petty shit to get in the soonest possible rematch whenever I’d beat you to whatever prize you were-” He shut up when the god surged up to kiss him hard.

Oh. Oh kissing with wolf-senses.

Tony had forgotten far too many things, clearly.

He thought Loki had smelled amazing before, but like _this_?

 _Ohhhhhh yes,_ Tony thought. Then Loki rolled them over and pinned him down hard and Tony repeated it, this time in the form of a moan.

“No,” the inventor then said sharply, “more,” when the god tried to pull away, and followed it with more kissing. Then there was a faint explosive sound nearby and they broke apart, staring toward the sound.

“That sounded like a weapon,” Tony said.

“You might have thought one of their children looked fun to chase, last night.”

“So teleport?”

“I’m still drained from bringing us here, Stark, how long do you want to wait until going back to your real life,” Loki chided dryly.

“Does real life have more of you kissing me in it, and less of your clothing still touching your body, maybe?” Tony asked, stopping the god from standing upright all the way with a grip on his wrist.

“We really do need to run.”

“Ah-ah, answer first.”

“I don’t know, but certainly not at this rate,” Loki growled.

“I was really hoping I didn’t have to go into the part where I’ve been trying to find you before now, since I didn’t think you were dead.”

The trickster’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Well, after the third time, obviously, but I mean that I started shortly after the second one,” Tony added.

Loki swore, hauled him up by the back of his neck and flung him. “Shift and run, you idiot! We’ll discuss this later!”

“Promise we will as soon as we’re escaped, Loki?”

“Will you shift already if I do?”

“Yes,” Tony promised.

“Then I swear to it, now _run_!”

Which was how they both were in wolf-shape again, by late morning, when they wandered into the Avengers’ camp by a long and winding route intended to set their hunters off their respective trails. Tony nudged the larger wolf away from the others, toward the shade of a tree at the edge of the copse the camp was settled under.

Shifting back into his human-shape, Tony leaned back against the tree trunk, not seemingly caring that he was naked, though he frowned a little at Loki’s clothes. “Why do you do that?”

“I wouldn’t wish to distract you,” Loki said flatly.

“Bullshit,” the inventor shot back. “You love distracting me.”

The god said nothing.

Tony sighed. “Look, I’ve wanted to get into your pants for a long damn time, I won’t even lie, but I never thought once I might be able to get into any more beyond that, okay?” He scratched at the back of his own neck a bit nervously. “Until, you know, this morning. I kind of remember everything pretty clearly, actually.”

Loki’s expression didn’t change, but his ears might have gotten a little more pink.

“Stick around?” the inventor asked hesitantly. “Not just because you smell about as delicious as your tongue actually is?”

Swallowing tightly, the god considered. “I’m currently occupied, more often than not, with Asgard’s throne.”

Tony considered that for a long few moments, his dark eyes glittering and calculative. “Bored?”

“Desperately,” Loki admitted crisply, like it pained him.

“So you plan to ditch?”

“Possibly.”

“You already set him loose, didn’t you?”

“Along with leaving a long letter explaining how I’ve done more in the past year to foster peace and prosperous trade throughout the realms than he has in the past century or more, including lasting peace with the new queen of Jotunnheim,” Loki remarked coolly. “I think he will be inclined not to make a spectacle of me for quite some time, given all the evidence I’ve collected, and my ability to share it with every single citizen of Asgard at once via their dreams, if needs must.”

Tony whistled. “Wow.”

Loki smirked a little despite himself.

Gesturing widely around them, the inventor asked, “So what’s this then?”

“A means to distract Thor while Odin adjusts to the new status quo, and solve the puzzle that is your existence.”

“So half a success only, then.”

“How so?”

“You think you’ve solved me?” Tony asked, disbelieving.

Loki hesitated. “I have learned, I think, that you are insoluble.”

The inventor’s expression fell slightly. “Oh.”

The trickster looked shocked, like he had accidentally poisoned the wrong dish at supper again. “I only meant-” He hesitated. “I mean that I could continue making attempts for an eternity and you would still surprise me, I suspect. I cannot solve you. There is too much of you that defies any simple answers, and I am far too fond of that.”

Blinking a few times quickly, Tony said more quietly, “ _Ohhh._ ”

Loki cleared his throat and looked away.

“C’mere.”

“Hm?”

Tony crooked his finger in another come-hither gesture. “I said to c’mere.”

“Where?”

“Sit.”

Loki sat beside him, also leaning back against the tree. He then sucked in a breath as the inventor suddenly straddled his lap and pressed them very very close together, with a little roll of his hips. “ _Oh_.”

“I’d like to think of you as better than a throne,” Tony hissed in his ear. “Just meet and greet everyone while on your lap, leave them confused as to who is really whose pet because the answer is neither, because for one of us to be a pet would require one of us to be tame, and we’re anything but that, aren’t we, Loki?”

The god emitted a low moan and rocked up against him.

Tony made a breathless noise at the resulting friction, then glanced down to confirm––yes, yes indeed that did look as impressive as it had felt. “Wow you’re gonna wreck me, aren’t you?”

“I can try not to,” Loki said softly, barely audible.

“Don’t you dare hold back on me,” the inventor answered.

Loki made a cracked sound and pulled him down hard for another kiss.

Tony lost track of time not long after that. It was glorious.

“If you want breakfast, either of you, we request that you take your werewolf courtship rites elsewhere, and return with your hands washed,” Clint bellowed at them from the nearby camp.

They both jerked apart, Tony suddenly radiating tension like an a guitar-string tightened almost to breaking.

“We’re downwind,” Loki pointed out.

“What?”

“They aren’t afraid of you. They’re worried, but not afraid. You’d be able to smell their fear from here, trust me,” the trickster pointed out.

Tony inhaled on the next bit of breeze. “Y-you’re right.” He felt some tension leave his shoulders slowly. “They aren’t afraid at all...” He hesitated. “You planned this part too, you complete sap.”

“I will not disagree, but only because I did not believe you would be naked in my lap at the time you experienced this revelation,” Loki drawled.

“Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, for giving me this back.”

“You’re not...”

“I missed it,” Tony said. “I told myself I didn’t... but I did.” He stood up slowly, stepping back so Loki had room to join him. “So. You’re a wanted criminal again, to them?”

“Oh right,” Loki murmured. “Unless I could be provided any sort of convenient amnesty of any sort.”

“You mean we’re dating then, and you’ll drop by the tower frequently enough I don’t have to hunt you down when I’d really like you to pin me to the nearest wall?” Tony rattled off quickly.

The god blinked. “You’ve given this some thought.”

“I’ve thought about trying to keep you around longer more than a few times,” Tony admitted as casually as he could, grasping Loki’s hand and pulling him forward by it. “Come on. Let’s tell them and see all their faces, this’ll be great.”

Chuckling helplessly, the trickster followed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Loki crashes the secret-lycanthropy party, though, Tony might be more than a little inclined to consider keeping him around. There were, of course, PR issues to address the werewolf thing, now that cat was out of that particular bag, too. Why not add an alien former-supervillain lover, too?

The first thing Natasha noticed, after they had called the pair to breakfast, was that Tony’s stride was wholly different. She heard the inventor and the trickster approaching before any of the others did. It was only once she recognized Loki’s stride did she lower her pistol back to into is concealed sheath and re-fasten it there by touch.

Tony’s stride was even quieter than the trickster’s; although she suspected that Loki might be doing so specifically because he knew the inventor was nearly soundless. Once she alerted the others, and the pair appeared within view, she observed that Tony moved with the grace of a dancer, now, and it occurred to her that with such sharpened hearing as the inventor had regained, he might be unusually hyper-aware of any sound his own movements made. She idly wondered if he had been this graceful before the palladium had dulled his senses.

Then Clint swore loudly behind her. “Pants, Stark!”

“Which I’m supposed to get from where, exactly?” the inventor shot back. “I wasn’t carrying a fanny-pack when I shape-shifted, you know. I wasn’t carrying anything, at that point, except a new fur coat.” That’s it, he thought. I can joke about it. Good, that means I’m fine with it, for now. It’s fine. “By the way, I’m not going to rip anyone’s face off, as long as no one makes any too-sudden moves in threatening postures, but the moon thing does still have me a bit tetchy.” Self-awareness and honesty: maybe something was really wrong with him.

_Just that you’re informing your pack that their alpha is okay but also may be snippy with them, but not to consider themselves at fault for it. That’s just my instincts functioning properly, and even suggesting that my pack has a stable enough hierarchy that I don’t feel any hesitation revealing a possible weakness like that._

Then he seemed to stare at all of the Avengers with a stricken look all of a sudden, like he had just noticed something deeply disturbing about all of them.

Loki turned, read his expression, looked over the Avengers’ faces, and then back to Tony. He barely smothered the first bark of laughter, but couldn’t manage to quiet the abrupt wave of sniggering that followed.

“What is it this time?” Steve asked, genuinely curious.

“Nothing to worry about,” Loki assured. “For now, I believe you would all be more comfortable if someone could at least procure Tony a spare pair of trousers?”

Clint threw a hastily-found pair. They landed, only partially-unfolded, right on Tony’s face. “They’re clean!”

“I can smell that, yes, much appreciated,” Tony scathed as he picked them up and pulled them on. They were of a soft fabric thicker than linen and sturdier, with a bit of give, that the inventor strongly suspected were the Aesir equivalent of pajama pants. He adjusted the small belted sections at either hip (because heaven forbid Asgard condescend to wear pajamas with draw-string waistbands) until certain the whole garment wouldn’t just fall off. “Better now?”

The rest of the Avengers nodded.

It was an effort for Tony not to preen slightly and let his chest puff up. _I have a pack. I am actually somehow a functional alpha of this pack. This is_ my pack _; they’re mine, holy shit._

“He’s doing the weird stare again,” Clint pointed out.

“At a guess, he has some slight cognitive dissonance between long-repressed lupine pack-related instincts, and what they are telling him that he didn’t previously pick up on before,” Loki remarked. “He’ll recuperate from the warm-and-fuzzy feelings shortly, I’m certain.”

Tony elbowed him sharply, aware that his face had gone a bit red. “Will you stop that, dammit?”

“Not likely,” said the god of mischief. He then fixed his attention upon Thor, who looked more than a little suspicious but also just amused enough that Loki could tell that he would be listened to, for now. “Need I ‘flee’ some pathetic attempt you will make to capture me and bring me to justice now, brother?”

The Thunderer looked thoughtful. “I am certain Heimdall would be amenable to bringing us back from here, were you to so abandon us. We are not too far beyond the reaches of Yggdrasil’s branches, on this world.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“It is not.” Thor looked him up and down quickly, as though reappraising him wholly anew for the first time in a very, very long while. Then he gestured around them at the elegant folding benches, chairs, and magically-collapsible tents, that formed their improvised camp-site. “The full camping array that... _you_ ordered for us to carry on this quest did include means of long-range communication, in case of emergencies. Odin reached out to it, at dawn, and informed us that the quest you had set us on here was a false one, and that you instead must have some other motives for bringing the Avengers here.”

“He also doubtlessly told you not to attempt to capture me, then?” the trickster asked, voice smug.

“He did; although he did not, at first, admit that you had been impersonating him, most likely for the sake of his own pride, and his wish to continue to be considered responsible for your accomplishments in Asgard whilst you held the throne.”

Loki’s eyebrows raised. “You disapprove?”

“I believe that he has reason to fear what would happen to him, if all of Asgard knew the truth,” said the thunder god. “I believe you have effectively humbled him, and that every good deed you accomplished in Odin’s guise was done as a direct stab at his pride, and definitive proof of how wrong he and all of Asgard have tended to be wrong in their judgements of you. I do not believe you were motivated by anything more kind than that, and I believe that you may find that without revenge left to focus you, you will be adrift within the nine realms, until you find some anchor for your interest, to keep you living as well as surviving, brother.”

“I am _aware_ of the revenge-hangover phenomenon,” the younger god said, low and only a little resentful.

“And how plan you to avoid it?”

Loki grinned bright and sly at that. “Mischief, nothing more, but nothing less.”

Thor looked thoughtful, at that, like he was reading more layers of meaning into that than the others: centuries worth, perhaps. “You have no plans, then,” he deadpanned.

“I have _plenty_ of plans,” the trickster protested, just a little too quickly.

“Including dating me,” Tony added, deciding to derail Thor’s line of inquiry any further before (and he was disconcerted only a little by the realization that he could already tell what the next actions about to unfold were, just based the tremor of Loki’s last syllable and the expression on his face) the god made up some very hasty improvised plans he would then be forced to actually stick to by sheer pride. “That’s a thing now, by the way.”

Steve audibly choked on a gulp of tea and coughed loudly.

“Look, that’s why I told you, man: do _not_ make bets like this with Natasha,” Clint told him, clapping him on the shoulder with an air of commiseration and camaraderie.

“You got him to bet on that?” Tony asked the assassin, sincerely impressed.

“Asgardian mead was in the rations, and it turns out his alcohol resistance doesn’t extend to that particular vintage of it,” she expounded.

“Damn, that’s cold, Nat!” the inventor exclaimed.

“Well, I was affected by it too, quite heavily. There were drinking songs,” the assassin admitted, only a little reluctantly.

“Oh, well then.” He shrugged and offered a wild grin. “What else did I miss?”

“Natasha almost made Odin crap his pants when she asked if he’d figured out already that Loki’s diplomatic work with Nifelheim and Jotunnheim both was in his own shape instead of Odin’s to the point that they probably would be suspicious at best and outright hostile at worst to Odin suddenly taking that over himself, exclusively,” Clint pointed out. “Didn’t know you were suddenly all about spreading peace, love, and understanding around the realms, Loki. Are you a pod person?”

“Actually, forging an alliance with Nifelheim has been both my own personal advantage, especially in my work also unmaking a legacy of millennia-long artificial winters in Jotunnheim as a way to spite my own father and grandfather, for a lot of complex cultural reasons,” Loki said, as though describing a hobby that he was certain they should have no real interest in. “Also, there’s just something reassuring about having diplomatic ties to terribly powerful blood-kin in Nifelheim who are older than Odin and many times more wise. They... make me aspire to be more artful in my chaotic exertions, actually.”

“I am glad,” Thor murmured.

Loki spared him an almost nervous sort of uneasy glance, before returning his attention to the archer. “Does that seem a little more in character for me?”

Clint frowned contemplatively for a long moment, then shrugged. “I guess.”

“Also, Thor and Natasha are trying to convince us that revealing you’ve been king the past few years to all of Asgard might be a beneficial thing,” Steve said, with considerable hesitation.

The trickster snapped out a terse, “ _What?_ No! Don’t you _dare_ take from me the leverage this gives me over the All-Father, brother mine!”

At that, the thunder god looked mock-innocently shocked. “Truly, Loki? You of all people do not wish to see his public humiliation and the revolts and chaos which will inevitably result when the truth of how he raised you, your true origins, and how much of the great feats achieved just during your short, impatient span upon the throne, they have been taking pride in all along? You do not want to see what will happen when they found out he wished to keep all of that secret from them, and take unearned credit for your actions?” he queried gently.

Loki looked very much like a deer caught in in an unexpected pair of truck-mounted headlights.

“Take it from a former Russian: this concoction you have brewed might have been intended to damage solely Odin’s pride and bolster your own significantly––because of course you of all people would be capable only of great acts of good when doing them all out of spite for your adopted father––you also have within it all of the ingredients and processing that get you about eighty-percent done with constructing a revolutionary powder-keg. I think it’s more telling than anything else about your true intentions and ambitions, and rulership not being high on your priority list, that you really just left it, and were going to settle for using this just for blackmail purposes,” Natasha extrapolated further, smirking at the god’s obvious discomfort.

“You want to seize the throne,” Loki said, more than a little disbelieving, to his brother.

“That the All-Father would let you do this, and let himself accept the credit for it, leaving you otherwise still mostly vilified in Asgard, and doing nothing to further make up for the wrongs he has done you in failing as our father, have led me to to conclude that it is long past time for Odin to give up his throne.”

Glancing from Thor, to Natasha, and back again, the trickster felt a strange sense that the universe had gotten unaccountably stranger while he wasn’t looking, yet again. He fixed his stare on the rock foundation of the Avengers whose steady focus, and kind heart, formed the needle of the whole team’s moral compass, when making morally questionable decisions.

Steve looked dryly amused, like he knew exactly how Loki saw him in that moment, and why the god would focus on his words when he said, “You haven’t wreaked any real havoc on earth at all since your last faked-death in front of us while you aided us against Thanos, but the death-tolls of your mischief on earth had been seeing a steady decline almost to zero even before that, excepting other villains who made the mistake of messing with you, or whatever territory boundary you decided meant they were too close to wherever you happened to be sleeping at the time. Just from that Thanos incident we learned a lot of things we’d gotten wrong about you from the beginning, particularly relating to the Chitauri. We’ve been allies with you more than once and so far you’re back-stabbing record is surprisingly minimal. It’s better than some within the ranks, even, depending on the week.” He shrugged. “All of Asgard is going to be revising what they think of you, and that will probably force us here on earth to grant you renewed diplomatic immunities anyway. If you’re going to be involved with Tony, you’re going to be in the public eye no matter how many precautions it might be possible to attempt, and even if we tried to stop you, Tony would make us regret it, and still date you anyway. Being civil, at least there’s discourse and you have a chance to prove that we don’t have good reason to want to kill you anytime soon.”

“Thor mentioned you’ve got friendly diplomatic contacts in six out of the seven realms other than Asgard and Midgard even, too,” Clint pointed out. “You could probably get endless entertainment from politics of the Earth, Natasha’s right about that. I think she has ideas about it, but I think that’s because she’s reread _Watchmen_ again on the flight out to our last mission, and _V for Vendetta_ on the way to the one before that.”

“Reread what and what?” Steve asked.

“Nothing,” Bruce and Clint said very quickly.

The super-soldier rolled his eyes at them. “You know I’m going to have to look it up now, right?”

“Uhm... let us explain just a couple things first,” the biochemist suggested. “Trust me, it’s necessary.” Then to Loki he continued, “Basically, the Avengers will probably wind up being your unofficial parole officers on earth. You don’t need to be anything remotely heroic, but killing people who didn’t try to kill you first will have to stop as much as possible, you’ll be taking care of any property damage you do yourself and it’ll come with PR handling.” He offered a grin that the others were used to more commonly seeing on the Other Guy. “So don’t fuck up, or the others will let Hulk destroy a lot more than just your spine, alright?”

The trickster nodded with an expression as unaffected as he could muster while also successfully resisting the desire to flee further from the Hulk’s potential reach.

Tony, by contrast, seemed to come to a sudden realization. “Holy fucking Tesla, you guys _missed him_!”

The rest of the Avengers looked only a little sheepish, except Clint, who looked resigned and appalled.

Loki began to snigger helplessly. The laughter shook him so hard that he eventually stumbled forward just so that when he finally dropped, at least he could land sitting mostly-upright on one of the folding benches. He might have wheezed audibly.

Tony strode up behind him and settled his hands on the god’s shoulders, nuzzling slightly behind his ear, making him shudder in a much less giggly manner suddenly, caught off-guard as he was. “Stick around, then?”

Loki tilted his head straight back, making the wolf’s-kin straighten up in order to meet his eyes. “You have my attention, and my desire, and I am very, very intrigued.”

Beaming down at him, the inventor hoped his face wasn’t doing what it felt like it might be doing. The throat-clearing and almost audible exchanges of pointed looks amongst the rest of the Avengers suggested that it was.

“You must have... some control of your nature, right?” Bruce inquired delicately.

Tony sighed. “Teeth or eyes this time?”

“Both,” the others all said.

He made a face. “Before, I’d never gone five or so years without restraining them, and keeping in practice. My fine control is gonna be shot, for a long while.” He then paled. “We can’t say it’s anything from earth,” he insisted vehemently. “Too many people will then be able to track down the rest of mom’s relatives, and some of dad’s too. There’s still some lunatics out there who find out about us and decide we’re all demons and things, and it’s a real mess.”

“So we lie,” Steve said, sounding uncomfortable, but understanding.

“How many... populations are there, on earth? Do you know?” Bruce asked.

“Nobody knows, really, because some packs have genuinely reverted to feral since the industrial revolution, and others just sort of vanish and then reappear like a century and a half later, and there’s even some aristocratic families in Europe for whom the whole ‘condition’ skips generations outright, which can get still more complicated. The internet made communicating anonymously safer and easier, and I personally built an awful lot of secure digital infrastructure that support an informational community, but I don’t keep track of individuals beyond what they’re willing to reveal anonymously in those places, you know? I mean, rough estimate, I’d say there’s maybe less than a quarter of a million of us world-wide left, because human history, and those are ones with families or packs. There might be hundreds scattered around who have no idea, or who think they’re mutants even, maybe. Some of them might be that, too.” He shrugged. “As family groups and communities both, they keep mostly to themselves, but they do extended families and loyalty really a lot, so they can be protective of each other and isolationist, but there are plenty who live just normal human lives.” He sighed. “Then there’s _dad’s_ family, but that’s a long damn story.”

“Thor explained that usually there’s not as much loss-of-self in a transformation as the one we saw, with you,” Natasha told him. “Unless the change has been suppressed, or triggered by violence or strong emotional response, you’re in control. This this true?”

“I am. It’s like riding bicycle. In a wolf-suit,” Tony deadpanned. “Well... actually, like I said, I’m still tetchy, and the first few full moons back home on earth are probably going to be really uncomfortable for me because of how long I’ve been out of sync with everything wolfish. I won’t be out of control even then, though, as long as I stick to penthouse and can leave any emergencies to the rest of you, which I do indeed trust you to handle; although in that case, giving Odin time and rope for his own gallows to continue pretending nothing has happened might be a good idea. If I’m down, and Thor is occupied with a revolution, that would leave too many of us out at once, in case of major external threats, which also would be more likely to be in town if there’s a revolution going on for them to scavenge off of.” He opened his mouth to continue, but then froze at the feel of long, godly arms wrapping about his waist from behind and Loki’s mouth against his skin where neck and left shoulder met. Given that he hadn’t even noticed the god stand up somehow, it was a marvel that he didn’t make any embarrassing noises throughout.

By contrast, the trickster made a very low and appreciative noise that was a bit more tangible than audible to ears less sensitive than Tony’s.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now, both of you,” Steve intoned gravely, “Please stop.”

Tony blinked a bit, focusing a bit more easily when Loki rested his chin there calmly, rather than what the god’s teeth and tongue had been doing to the same spot just a moment before. “Sorry, I lost my train of thought.”

“I stopped paying attention after realizing how incredibly attractive it is to hear Anthony talk about my enemy constructing his own gallows,” Loki said, casually shameless, “and I’m not apologizing for that in the least.”

Thor and Natasha seemed to shrug this off, while Steve looked deeply concerned, Bruce being unsurprised and a bit resigned, and Clint just looked grossed out a bit by the sexually charged nature of it alone.

“You suggest this is all family-linked, so far,” the doctor asked. “Is transmission via bite a myth, then?”

“It, uh, didn’t used to be,” Tony said, a bit reluctantly. “There was some event around the time of the crusades that actually created the first generation of people like me who could transmit the condition like that, but they were a bit different than others before them, and populations elsewhere around the globe, from what I’ve been able to to work out. There was a lot of panic over those wolf’s-kin during the dark ages, in subsequent centuries anytime one of them went mad, which was increasingly common particularly amongst those of us living in cities in that era, with that level of sanitation, which was pretty much a recipe for disaster, over time. Most of the population with the ability to pass on lycanthropy via bite were killed off a lot more often than those of us who couldn’t, and eventually it stopped showing up in the gene pool almost entirely.”

“Almost?” Natasha repeated.

“There’s one or two families that have a recessive trait for it that every now and then makes an appearance, but they have clean histories. They never converted anyone against their will, or who wasn’t pretty well-informed about what they were getting into. Usually those bitten have an injury or illness which the bite can repair, and modern medicine can’t, so they’re often both grateful and discreet. I met them, with Howard, several times. I just haven’t in a while, though I should... I should now.” His brow furrowed. “Oh, Public Relations, how you pale in complexity compared to Secret Public Relations Supposedly On the DL.”

“It’s not the sort of secret society that any conspiracy theorists we know of would ever think you’re a part of, at least,” Clint remarked. “You don’t look like quite _that sort_ of mythical creature.”

“Blow it out your ass, Robin Hood,” Tony responded instantly.

“The human population being the size that it is, I am actually quite surprised at how relatively few wolf’s-kin there are left in Midgard,” Loki remarked idly. “There used to be quite a lot of you, long ago.”

“Well humans, over time, tend to get particular ideas in their heads about us.”

“Such as considering you monstrous?” the god asked, a bit more quietly, shifting a bit so that the were not pressed as closely together, but he had a better view of Tony’s eyes, which was more important to him just then.

Clearing his throat, the inventor conceded, “Uhm, yeah.”

“Do you believe that about your own nature, Tony?” Bruce asked, sounding sincerely curious, and little concerned.

The inventor settled his own arms across his waist so that his hands brushed both of Loki’s arms where they still bracketed his waist, albeit more loosely. “It never really felt _true_ in that I didn’t feel like it was actually applicable to me personally, but I knew other people would see it that way no matter what. The lip-service repetition of the association between being wolf-like and being base and animal and generally sinful being all over the place in western culture down on Earth also just adds a new level of horror to the adolescent years of any wolf’s-kin going through puberty, honestly. I still never really felt that the problem with me was that I was a monster, because the monster part was the easy part: it was keeping away from the public eye long enough to go for a run on a full moon that was a problem, it was learning to exert control over the speed of my own hear-beat consciously to prevent showing anything other than a shining human face at any public appearances––well, either that or some scotch laced with enough wolfsbane to give it actual kick for someone like me. It would also let me get drunk, bonus, but mostly it numbed all things wolf enough that playing human was a lot less stressful with that particular aid, and the components of wolfsbane that are useful for all that are alcohol-soluble but not water-soluble, so clearly... you’re all looking very judgmental.”

Tony sighed and shook his head. “Look, I never said any of that shit was a good idea; I’m just saying it’s what I did, and how I thought, at the time, and you can probably guess where I learned half of it was at home.” He cleared his throat. “But yeah, that was a bit of a factor. It wasn’t a factor when I was drying out, though, so clearly being a werewolf was one of the least blame-worthy factors where my alcoholism is concerned. We clear, there?”

A round of nodding from the Avengers, and a small noise of agreement from the trickster still resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder, followed.

“Good. That was how it really was, for me, though. It wasn’t being a werewolf that bothered me, it was being a werewolf and having to keep that concealed, but also wanting to live the young-Tony-Stark lifestyle, which involved a lot of questionable decision-making in public and media scandals, and other sorts of insanity I could’ve never indulged in without a way to let loose without showing off glowing eyes and fangs on any given day. It was a mess, and I was a mess, and I did a lot of experimenting with all sorts of other drugs and different wolfsbane tinctures, but by the time I was actually twenty-one I’d quit all but the alcohol with it.” Seeing their faces, he sighed. “I was an arrogant teenager with lycanthropy I resented having to hide, and genius-level proficiency at chemistry and engineering. I don’t know why you’re really that shocked.”

“Maybe they’re simply surprised at how early and extensively you so risked your health and sanity,” Loki pointed out, “given that they do care about you.”

“Gee, thanks, Lokes, but I was hoping to leave the guilt-tripping to them at the end of the initial Werewolf Basic Q & A session, here.” Then he sighed, instantly regretful. “Bruce, just... tell me _you_ at least get it? Please?” The look he shot his friend was a desperate one.

“I do,” the doctor admitted, “but you’re right, that you were a stupid teenager about it, by the sounds of it.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, relieved. “Thanks. Next question.”

“Do you regret repressing it so long?” Thor inquired.

The inventor made a face like he had really been hoping that wouldn’t come up, because he might still be working on it, but clearly it was getting his full focus now. He also might have very deliberately looked everywhere except Loki’s face, on which he knew he’d see an oh-so-keen and distracting expression. “Uh. Well, yeah, but I don’t know if I could’ve really done it differently. I could hardly explain ‘I used to be a werewolf, no I have no evidence, because of the metal in my chest’ because it does actually sound insane, and then the longer Iron Man continued to exist, the more insane shit kept happening such that bringing that up would only be added potentially-lethal drama in the middle of already chaotic situations, until just continuing to keep a lid on it genuinely seemed to be the only option.”

“Which was also making the reversion potentially less stable, the longer and longer you kept your symptoms repressed?” Natasha questioned.

“Yeah, I know, I never said it was going to work long-term, but after a certain point that stopped mattering as much to me, and it was pretty much the moment I realized I could let my guard down around Pepper the way I’d wanted to from the moment I met her, but couldn’t without being slightly tipsy, but with her I couldn’t afford to be that compromised because of how brilliant she always is. She made me keep up with her and challenged me to do more than even that, just to see if I could, and she’d become incredibly important to me, but I still had no idea if she’d want me even as she knew me, let alone with added wolfish complications she still didn’t know about. When I came back from Afghanistan feeling numb and half-deaf, because my senses had all dulled, and I had less than half the strength I was used to being able to casually wield, the only person who could make me feel less numb and powerless was Pepper, and I realized that things had actually just become less complicated, and I’d also just faced my own mortality, and so losing the perks and inconveniences of lycanthropy alike didn’t seem so bad, compared to what I could gain if I played my cards right and became genuinely better than I had been.” He cleared his throat. “So that was why I started supplements with a bit of palladium to keep me at a functional level, despite palladium-related near-death experiences, which incidentally I don’t ever recommend, ever. It was a terrible idea and I feel bad. It just seemed to me, at the time, the only way to be with Pepper the way I wanted to be, without having to hide and restrain myself constantly.”

A long silence followed. Thor strode over behind what looked at first like a grill, but on closer examination seemed to actually conceal a portal rather than the interior of a cooking unit. The thunder god pulled two plates from it of cold meats, dried fruit, and a dry spiced bread, and proffered them to his brother and Tony.

They accepted the food and followed the others to a larger table when beckoned. Sitting down next to one another, the inventor and Loki exchanged eloquently questioning glances before the god took his first bite of the food, while Thor poured drinks for everyone else, as they sat down at their own plates.

“Is that seriously a bottomless picnic basket?” Tony asked lightly. “Those come standard with Asgardian camping packs?”

“In those slightly more ostentatious ones designed to be acceptable places to hold diplomatic conferences in, on other worlds beyond the reach of the bïfrost, yes. I may have deliberately made you all use the ones most inconvenient for Odin to replace,” Loki answered, sounding moderately smug.

“For the record, Tony,” Steve cut in, using a tone which indicated a change in topic. “You don’t plan to continue taking palladium, right? It’s not good for your health.”

“I won’t go back, no. I should’ve stopped after I got the reactor taken out, but things were already on the rocks with Pep, after the Extremis debacles, and I basically kept waiting for things to slow down enough that I could risk taking the time to detox and somehow explaining to Pepper, but then the worlds were all about to end via premature Ragnarök and we started arguing about the future and possible... possible things that might persuade me to retire as Iron Man, which as we all know led to the eventual collapse into a long and drawn out break-up, and the popularly-dramatized public recovery of our solely-professional relationship.” He suddenly froze, looking horrified. “She’s going to yell at me for _hours and hours_ over it, once she makes me explain all of this to her.” Tony didn’t miss the way Loki’s expression shuttered slightly at that and pointedly added, “That’s assuming she doesn’t try to garrote me for putting my dating you publicly on her PR agenda,” toward the god.

Loki shot him a slightly odd look.

“What?”

“But you-”

The inventor interrupted, “I did mean what I said, Loki.”

After another moment or two of staring, Loki stopped him from taking his next bite of food with a touch from two fingers, while his other hand cupped the line of Tony’s jaw and hooked its thumb around his chin, pulling the inventor into a sudden, all-too-brief but ridiculously deep and intense kiss, like the feel of that silver tongue against his own burned through all of Tony’s brain’s remaining processing power as all of his senses lit up with trying to take more of Loki into his awareness.

Then the god pulled back and Tony could distantly hear the familiar early morning bird calls of the Grumpy-Bitching Hawkeye heckling at the edges of his awareness before the rest of his senses regained focus on the rest of his surroundings, filling in the sounds of the other Avengers and of Loki’s breathing and quickened heartbeat.

_Oh I can make your heart beat faster still, just let me._

He shook off the thought, but felt all too aroused by it despite himself.

“Yeah, we so need a cover story for your slightly scary jack-o-lantern eyes,” Clint said. “Are they actually glowing?”

“A little,” Loki said absently, to the inventor rather than Barton. “Gorgeously, to be frank, but I’m of the heavily biased opinion that that’s how you do everything.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” Bruce inquired.

“He likes what thickness of it I apply, do you not Tony?” Loki asked innocently.

Natasha half-choked on her drink, loudly. Steve’s might have gone bright chartreuse, but Tony’s ears were a still brighter tomatoey shade in comparison. Clint and Bruce both just looked sad and uncomfortable.

“Please forget I said anything,” Bruce tried to insist.

“For the record, I don’t know that yet, Loki darling, now do I?” Tony countered.

“Mmm, yes, we need to remedy that very soon.”

“Please wait until we’re at least done eating?” Clint pleaded.

“I’ll consider,” Loki said, in a tone that suggested he’d more likely be giving more consideration to ways to further discomfit the archer directly. Then he tossed a few more pieces of dried fruit in his mouth and chewed, still maintaining eye contact.

“ _Thorrr, you’re brother is creeping me out_ ,” Hawkeye complained.

“So, can you take us back to earth directly?” Bruce asked.

“ _Your honor is in no danger, or it would be Tony who would be the greater threat to you, Clint,_ ” the thunder god responded, from the other end of the table. “ _Particularly so soon after such a volatile full moon._ ”

“Actually, Dr. Banner, yes. It would be a shorter journey than Asgard, at present, in fact,” the god said.

“What phase is the moon in back home?” Tony asked suddenly, like it might suddenly be a significant problem.

The Avengers all exchanged odd glances, and then shrugged, save for Clint, who touched one of his ears as though hearing something. “JARVIS says you’d have about six days before it would be full, right now.”

The inventor swore. “That’s gonna fuck with things a bit. Oh, fun.”

“So wait, we can go home anytime?” Natasha asked Bruce and Loki quietly.

“Natasha, we’re having a picnic breakfast on another planet,” Steve said, gently mocking. “I think we can stick around a little longer.”

“Just... not permanently, I mean,” she clarified.

“Yes,” Loki said, as one of his arms settled about the inventor’s waist, fingers stroking his far side soothingly.

Tony might have slumped back against him with a disgruntled huff, his skin already itching again with the impulse to change shape, but he managed to ignore it, particularly when he could focus on Loki’s arm around him, and the cool breath against the side of his neck. “I need to arrange a place to run, then.”

“I can take you to Alfheim, if you like,” Loki offered quietly. “I... know a pack of wolves there. Not wolf’s-kin, but they know me well.”

The inventor thought about it, and caught himself starting to grin. “Yeah. I’d like that a lot, I think.” He pressed his calf alongside Loki’s under the table. “You’ll run with me again, right?”

The trickster’s eyes were bright and lit up with almost shockingly happiness at the question. “Yes. Yes, always.”

Tony swallowed tightly.

Clint set down his own empty plate and wandered off a short distance to hide up a tree. Natasha followed as far as the base of the tree, loudly mocking him as she went.

Loki finished the last bite off of his own platter daintily, and then glanced down at the inventor’s own pointedly, then back at the inventor himself. “Thor, I do think you can start most of the supplies packing themselves up, can’t you?”

Finishing his second plate in one large mouthful, the Thunderer nodded and started to make his way to the far edge of the camp to start the process.

It was only five minutes after Tony emptied his plate that they were packed up, and teleported back to Earth.

 

~~

 

The moment Tony arrived in the tower, unfortunately, a number of his instincts began to go immediately haywire to the point of giving him a crippling migraine that Loki might have explained to the others as being caused by the lunar cycle equivalent of jet-lag, as his internal clock tried to reset, at the same time he had the vaguely ridiculous impulsive need to inspect the tower perimeters and trace the origins of a dozen completely alien new smells permeating the building.

Eventually Loki was the one to get through to him past the barrage of data from his increasingly-distressed sniffing of the air, and the others were starting to notice something off in his body-language: something just a little too predatory.

Once in a headlock, with only Loki’s scent around him, Tony’s head cleared very quickly, and he wondered if he should be distressed by that. “Sorry. Lost track for a bit there. Where did I leave off?”

Loki stilled, ceasing his slow increase of pressure on the choke-hold. “You’re back with us so easily?”

“You smell really good, I did mention?” the inventor pointed out.

The trickster seemed surprised by that.

Tony arched back into him a little, non-aggressively, scenting him a bit with a small content noise. “Very complex, but distinct and clear. It’s a good focus-smell, like rosemary or something from the mint family, but sort of warmer and richer underneath like sun-heated leather, and just a hint of honeyed spice.”

“I feel like we should be making the weirdest nature documentary,” Clint sighed.

“Fuck off, I’m not sharing video,” the inventor growled.

“Please stop talking now,” the archer responded immediately.

“I can actually explain, this time. It’s a territorial thing,” Tony said.

“Does JARVIS not have the ability to patrol as you were less capable of without your current heightened senses?” Loki suggested, on an inspired guess.

“You’re... not wrong.”

“As you are alpha then,” Loki murmured, too quietly for the others here, “you can delegate, and instincts will be satisfied, so long as you trust JARVIS.”

“I do,” Tony replied. “You’re right.” Louder, he said, “JARVIS? The usual paranoid patrols, please. Let me know the states of everything.”

“Of course, sir.”

With that criteria met, it was much easier to focus on smelling the rest of the room around him, rather than just Loki, again. He was able to identify most of the smells that had initially seemed unfamiliar as varieties of soap or other cleaning solutions he had just never smelled with a wolf’s nose instead of a human’s. Other things he eventually identified as relating to the materials the building itself was made out of. He could also smell traces of his pack everywhere, which caused him to relax significantly.

“Tony?” Loki inquired.

“S’fine. I’m good now, actually. Just the initial shock did it. You can let go.”

Gently, the god did so.

Tony shook out his shoulders and looked around the main common living-room once more, with a bit more approval than panic this time. “Yeah, we’re good. Sorry.”

“Your senses are sharpened all the time?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah. I’ll need to make a few new sets of earplugs for certain tasks again,” Tony mused. “Smells, unfortunately, there’s no filtering out, and that’s far more distracting, generally, than noise. Less painful, though, than loud noise.” He considered adding further, but then felt short nails scratching at a narrow, slightly sensitive patch of skin just under the base of his neck, causing him to lean back into the contact a bit bonelessly because _good yes fantastic scratchings_. Instead of words, he might have emitted a very low whine that he hoped only Loki could hear.

“Is there seriously a way we could have shut him up just by scratching there, all this time?” Clint asked. “Because seriously, we could just have back-scratchers around to reach over with and quiet him when he’s being difficult.”

“All I’m hearing from you Barton, is outrageous calumny, and if I hear any more of it, sir, you shall suffer an ill fate most dire,” Tony swore, voice only wavering a little when Loki’s fingertips drew his shirt collar down in the back, baring that tender skin to the trickster’s teeth, scraping gently over it. “Indeed you––hymm––nnnope,” he announced shortly after those teeth bit harder and Loki’s clever tongue began to tease too. “Words gone, but if you ever attempt this, Barton, I’ll punch you in the throat.” He then suppressed a whine as the god’s teeth pulled away, slowly letting his skin fall out of their grasp, and he felt the curve of Loki’s lips smirking against his skin.

A barely audible whisper, “Oh, Tony, sweet,” before the trickster kissed the still-red teeth-marks visibly healing, and tangibly close to fever-hot as they did heal, on the inventor’s shoulder.

“Take him up to the penthouse at least, if you’re going to start that, Loki,” Natasha requested curtly. “Don’t be churlish.”

The god chuckled softly, making Tony shiver at the feel of it down his spine. “Fair enough. We shall be occupied... awhile.”

“Please go,” Clint asked a little fervently.

“You guys are insane and freakishly understanding people and I love and appreciate you, thank you, bye,” Tony managed to rattle oft swiftly, right before Loki teleported them the short distance up to the penthouse; although the god sounded slightly winded by the effort, his magic reserves by then very low.

“You seriously learned all those places grooming my fur just so you––my god, that’s hot but slightly creepy, bite there again!” Tony growled low, struggling a little in vain, mostly just testing to see if he could once the trickster seized hold of both of his wrists in a bruising grip.

“I did not learn them with that purpose, but I suppose that memorizing them was very much my goal, if only for the sake of imagine better what sort of touches might most quickly take you apart,” Loki murmured, “or most slowly.” He bit again, harder, while drawing his fingernails lazily up from Tony’s hips to the base of his ribcage..

Tony emitted a high whine without shame. “F-fuck.” He could hear the inhuman qualities in his own voice and tried not to panic. Then Loki bit and sucked that tender spot again and nuzzled up, kissed behind his ear and murmured his name. The whine dropped sharply in pitch and became a rumbling growl. A moment later, he arched a bit further, and then tugged free of the god’s grasp enough to pivot around to face him, and seize hold of the front of his shirt and drag him forward by it, toward the bed. “You’re unfairly sexy, just gorgeously so, do you know that?”

“I find you enchanting yourself,” Loki countered, moving in step with him until the sides of each of their knees brushed the edge of the bed and he halted them, fingers trailing down one side of the inventor’s throat. “What does the upcoming moon promise you, now you can hear her again? Are you pulled up by her in submission to her song, or do you chase her, and seek to capture the promise of her light?”

The inventor considered, still recalibrating as he was, and strung out from the stressful transformation on another world with such sweetly intense moonlight. As a pack leader, perhaps he should feel more dominant, but then again perhaps not, as long as he knew what he needed, and how to get it. What he needed was to be taken care of, but on his own terms, as he readjusted to experiencing some sensory input much more overwhelmingly than he’d had to deal with in years.

“I think... I think I want you on your back for me, right where I can see you, while I ride your cock so hard we might potentially break this bed.” He grinned when he found a complete lack of resistance upon tugging at the front of Loki’s shirt again, this time steering him to lie back on the bed. After giving him only a few moments to settle, Tony then prowled up the bed and settled over him with a low, appreciative noise in his chest at the sight Loki made under him, as the god stared up at him with poison-green eyes gone wide and dark with want. “You like this plan too, then?”

Leaning up, arching lithe and graceful, so that he could kiss the softest part of the inventor’s throat, Loki said in polished tones, “Consider me at your service, Mr. Stark,” and proceeded to vanish all of their clothing abruptly.

Sucking in a breath at the sudden sensation of so much bare skin beneath him, Tony couldn’t help but roll his hips down for a little more smooth friction, when he suddenly felt the whole length of Loki’s cock brush against his ass, and swallowed thickly, because that––would be a new level of that particular experience.

The mad inventor had always been bad at knowing when to stop pushing his limits, but he was pretty sure he could handle this one, with the aid of renewed healing capabilities perhaps making it seem less daunting than it otherwise might’ve been. Fear itself ceased to have meaning anyway, as soon as Loki asked him in sultry tones, “Now will you make me be still as I watch you prepare yourself for me, or shall I open you up myself, with my own clever hands, until you nearly come from fucking my fingers alone.”

Tony moaned faintly despite himself. “Well, what would you do with me, once I’m slick and ready for you?”

“Then I would guide your hips as you ride me, the better to get as deep within you as possible, and apply friction right where you most need me. ”

The inventor shuddered a little, licking his lip slow and thoughtful. “First your hands. Impress me.” He then shivered and bit back a moan, feeling two slick fingertips rub across his entrance while the trickster beamed up at him. “Now magically summoning lube is the most practical magic I’ve ever heard of.”

“Mmm, just wait until I explain to you the concept of _Ergi_ ,” Loki mused. “But later, for that. For now...” He pushed one finger slowly into the inventor’s ass, making an appreciative sound at how fever-hot and ridiculously tight Tony’s body felt around his probing touch. “Oh, my Tony, how I will wreck you.”

Tony whimpered, trying to buck his hips a little as that long finger slipped in deeper still, and he felt another beginning to push in alongside it. When they scissored him open, twisting so that they caught the bundle of sensitive nerves with the friction, the inventor gave a full-body shudder and emitted a grumbling, demanding whine. “Fuck, Loki, harder there please, just-” He groaned high and needy when the god’s fingers pushed up into him hard, but both fingertips passed right on either side of the tender spot that most wanted that rough friction. “ _F-fuck, Loki, p-please_ ,” he whined.

“Patience, sweet.”

The inventor looked down at him with eyes half-feral yellow and ground his hips down hard and sudden, taking what he needed with a breathless gasp, and then continuing as Loki began to move with him, letting him set the rhythm, though he added a third finger the first time the mad human put his entire body into the downward roll of his hips, making Tony’s head fall back and a breathy choked-off sound catch in his throat. The inventor ground down again, and again, in minute movements, but again with all of his weight behind them, pulling whimpers from his chest that he couldn’t control as Loki’s hand pushed up at a slightly better angle so each grind was a pain-and-bliss moment of hard pressure dragging across his prostate until he almost sobbed with it, his whole body shaking. “Loki _please_ ,” he panted, barely managing to slur the words out past how good that felt.

“You want my cock to ride now, Tony?”

“Mmm, fuck yeah.” He rolled his hips down hard again, a high noise escaping him involuntarily when the god pressed a fourth finger into him and pushed deeper with more force suddenly, turning that high noise into an outright near-scream, save how Tony clenched his jaw and pressed his lips shut to try and muffle it.

“None of that, darling, open up for me so I can hear you, and best deliver to you what it is you so clearly need.”

Tony’s jaw fell open instantly and a series of breathless, helpless noises escaped him as he bucked down on that hand. “‘M close, Loki, your hand, oh sweet Lovelace, you feel so good in me, Loki, please.”

“What deity’s name did you just pair with mine?”

“N-no diety, scientist, don’t stop, please, I was raised without gods, I don’t generally shout about them during sex ‘s all.”

“Oh don’t you?”

“I d-don’t.”

“And what if I want to hear your worship, Tony dear? As your god...”

All of the inventor’s breath left his lungs in a rush, but he couldn’t form a sound with it; although his hips did jerk back reflexively onto the trickster’s fingers. “Loki, fuck me. Please, oh m-my...” Why was it so hard to muster the phrase? Tony tried again, more firmly, “m- _my god_ , please!”

“Oh, Tony,” Loki purred under him.

The inventor whined despite himself at the feel of those fingers slowly retreating, leaving him bereft and aching.

“Arch your hips up a little further, now lower them... stop, yes, now you feel me, I-... _Oh_ , p-patience, Tony.”

Trying to push back down harder against the head of Loki’s cock, now he could feel it slicked and pressing against his hole, the inventor panted out, “I think it’s my turn,” and grabbed the god’s shoulders hard to get the leverage he needed to push down hard, even against the grip of Loki’s hands on his shoulders. He cried out halfway down, shuddering and hesitating only a moment, before managing to relax enough to slowly ease down the remaining few inches, until he could feel the pressure of sharp hip-bones against him, and of Loki in him to the hilt––stretching him wider than fingers alone had. Tony hissed in mixed pleasure and lingering discomfort as the trickster wrapped long, cool fingers around his cock and stroked him swiftly back to full hardness.

“ _You feel so exquisite, my Tony, now take from me what you need_ ,” the god moaned, just shy of pleading. “Use me.”

“Don’t stop touching me,” the inventor hissed.

“How could I possibly stop? You should see how you look, sweet, arched over me and stretched around my cock, trembling and needing so much more.” His hand on the inventor’s cock slowed maddeningly, and his other hand stroked up the line of the inventor’s spine to grip his hair hard, right at the base of his skull. “Ride me hard as you can, Tony Stark.”

Moaning helplessly, Tony rolled his hips in a hard downward grind, at first, making them both shudder, then began to raise himself up in earnest and push hard back down, to feel Loki all the deeper. It ached, but the ache filled him and sizzled up through his nerves, setting them alight and making him tremble even as he forced himself to move faster, and push himself harder. “Oh, g-god, Loki, fuck me.” He then screamed as the god seized his hips in both hands and took over the pace entirely, all raw strength and knowledge and _talent_ , managing to feel deliciously bruising against the sweet spot where Tony so desperately needed that friction. “Ohhhh fuck.”

“Yesss,” Loki moaned. “Come for me, Tony.”

“I n-need I... _aaahhh_!” He had been going to request a hand on his cock again, but then Loki’s hands on his hips gripped harder, lifting him and dragging him down both with seemingly no effort, hitting his prostate so hard he saw stars and might have emitted a scream as he came undone entirely, all at once.

He then made lower, whimpering sounds again because even as his body tried to slow and halt, the god kept that hold of his hips, kept up fucking him, and fucking him, and after the third tremulous after-shock brought tears to his eyes involuntarily, Tony began to beg, “Please, please, please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“I c-can’t, it’s––hhnnnggh, Loki, I didn’t mean to apply hands now that’s t-too sensitive, please sssst-” He cut off with a cry of pain at the hard squeeze of the god’s fingers around the base of his cock, then moaned low, growling and helpless as the pain and rush of blood from his healing factor seemed to jump-start his recovery-time. “Loki, oh fuck h-how,” the he stilled as the trickster fucked up into him with a sharp roll of his hips and a desperate noise of his own.

Tony pinned the god’s shoulders down hard, then, and began riding him again, fast and hard, resisting all attempts Loki’s hands, grip now weakened, made at steering him. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he panted. “You’re so fucking turned on you hardly know what to do with yourself, now. You got that close just watching me come, now let’s see you break open for me, Loki. Let me see you like this.”

“Tony,” the trickster moaned. “H-harder.”

Using force that might have damaged the hips of a mere human, Tony watched the trickster’s face closely. “Mark me,” he hissed. “Mark me and give me yourself.”

Loki moaned, shuddered, and trembled as he came, and the inventor just kept riding him all through it. The god seemed pained by overstimulation only briefly before forcing his eyes back open to meet Tony’s, as he rolled his hips up hard again, clearly recovered fully, the inventor able to feel what little softness there had been inside him abruptly re-harden. “You’re marked, now, then, Tony. Feel it?” he hissed, sliding lazily out and then pushing up into him harder again. “You’re slicker inside, coated with my release, but let us fill you further: make me come again.”

“Holy fuck, you’re so damn hot,” the inventor panted. “Keep fucking me like that, just let me...” He moved his hips into each of Loki’s hard thrusts, with a little grind, making them both moan similarly blissful and yet aching.

The second round was not as frantic, but in its way more precise, each of them exploiting what they had learned so far about he other with surprisingly intimate bites and touches up along each other’s bodies, the building pressure between them heavy and aching as they clung to it, added to it.

Tony was blissed out, not able to think any longer, only plead a little and keep struggling to get more, to get release again, but they both dragged out their motions as much as possible, unhurried yet still aggressive, teeth abusing all skin he could reach; although he did whine low and disappointed, on occasion, when he could see the marks on his own skin, or Loki’s, fast-fading as they both healed.

 _“_ You’re mine,” Loki suddenly hissed in his ear, “and I am _greedy_.” He sounded desperate, even cracked open.

“Me too, my god, my Loki,” Tony managed to hiss, and was rewarded by a hand on his cock again, stroking faster and rougher this time. “F-fuck me harder, too, please, ‘m close, Loki, please fuck me harder.”

“Oh, yes,” the god panted, hips snapping up harder and faster suddenly.

The inventor’s whole body arched back in a bow with it, until Loki’s other hand seized the back of his neck and yanked him down into an aggressive kiss, the god moaning low and sweet into it.

With that, the inventor came undone, shaking all over and screaming Loki’s name, barely muffled by the god’s lips against his own. He felt Loki come in him a moment later and almost sobbed with the intense after-shock of pleasure that sent tingling up through his entire body.

They finally slowed, then, and halted, but made no movements to part.

Feeling the god inside him slowly soften and begin to slide out made some more animal instinct in Tony’s mind feel soothed in a way he had never expected might apply to him. He felt full, and possessed, and well-used, all at once, and it was glorious.

“Dating. Yes. Keeping you, also yes,” the inventor groaned, some minutes later.

“Good,” Loki murmured. “I was thinking along similar lines.”

Tony tried not to think about how ridiculous the grin that broke out across his face then must’ve looked. “Good, yeah.” He fell silent, then, as the god’s lips brushed his. Letting himself drown in the scents of Loki, and sex, and home, Tony felt more at peace than he had in years.

 

~~

 

The first press release from Stark Industries following the return of Tony’s more wolfish traits, was an announcement that Tony Stark had been afflicted by some transformative weapon on another planet, with unusual side-effects. For the first three days, the inventor was to lay particularly low in the tower, because as far as anyone in the press corps knew, he was supposed to be under quarantine. Then it was announced that Asgard knew a good deal about his condition and had stabilized it, assuring all concerned that it had never been contagious.

All major stock holders, and the board of directors, were briefed by Tony personally. If he had known he’d so enjoy being able to scare the daylights out of them with just a little effort and a bit more predatory body language, then he might have considered coming up with an excuse like this for his lycanthropy ages ago.

In a public appearance on the fifth day since his return to lycanthropy, he held a press conference with the rest of the Avengers, and Loki, with himself and Steve in the very middle of the table, and Loki directly on Tony’s right. Predictably, the inventor did most of the talking as he described his condition in the most vague terms possible, avoiding all mention of transformation into any animal-shape (that much, at least, he knew himself to have enough control to almost always restrain) but did cover some of the essentials that the press might notice, like eye-color changes, elongation of teeth, and occasionally non-human vocal harmonics.

“What seems to be the primary cause of these changes to your appearance, Mr. Stark?” demanded a pretty brunette man with bright blue eyes.

“The planet that the Avengers visited used to be home to a race that was human-like, but not entirely and it was their medical technology unexpectedly malfunctioning which caused this,” Tony lied with ease. “It seems likely that some of my own DNA was affected, but my system is currently stable. Apparently, this has happened before, with relics from that particular civilization, which is why Asgard was aware of it, and able to help me out.”

“How will your new condition affect your life, particularly in relation to Stark Industries and the Avengers alike?” another reporter asked: a woman with skin the color of pale gold sandstone and her wide, but narrow eyes black as pitch.

“I’ve actually benefitted overall from it, now that I’m stabilized, so I should actually be able to work more efficiently with the Avengers with improved reflexes, strength and stamina-” He dutifully ignored the noises from some of his younger, more enthusiastic female fans at that, combing the edges of the group; they were not with the press to go by their home-made tributes to Avengers costumes. “-and my work with Stark Industries will probably improve as well, given how quickly I now recuperate from most injuries.”

“Who is the new face next to you on your right, Mr. Stark? Is he a new Avenger.”

Everyone, including Loki, visibly smothered hysterical laughter.

“No, he’s not interested in joining the Avengers, we’re pretty sure,” Tony mused. “It might set an interesting precedent for redemption if we did though, darling, since you were our first real antagonist.”

Loki smiled wide and bright, at that, tilting his head just a little to speak into his own microphone, “Despite the interplanetary peace I’ve spent the past few years building in Asgard, to amend some of the damages I’ve done,” the trickster lied, with casual conviction, “I would hardly consider redemption an option. It would be presumptuous of me to seek it out, given my nature.” He then beamed down at the gathered press corps. “My name is Loki Lyesmithe, of Asgard and Nifelheim. Hello again, and I am terribly sorry, to New York City, for the damages I caused to the local infrastructure when we first met.”

“Also he’s my boyfriend,” the inventor added. “And yeah, I’m a bit in love.”

Predictably, there was a bit of an uproar.

Tony smirked sidelong at the trickster god, who in turn grinned widely at him, too. Together then, they faced the sudden barrages of new questions, aimed not just at them, but the rest of the Avengers too, and prepared to bullshit on a whole new level, by both liars’ impressive previous standards.

“Welcome to the Earth,” the inventor murmured in his lover’s ear.

“Why thank you, darling. Let’s do put on a show for them,” Loki murmured back.

“My thoughts exactly,” Tony agreed. “Let’s do.”

“By the way,” the trickster murmured, very close to his ear and far too quiet for anyone else to pick up. “I love you, too.”

Flashbulbs went off as soon as it became clear that the infamous playboy Tony Stark was turning a vibrant shade of pink. Steve was sorting out the chaotic reactions of every member of the press and setting up an organized queue for questions from each reporter, which the inventor really did appreciate, busy as he was holding Loki’s stare as the god smiled at him, the whole expression warm with affection and appreciation both, but still just a little predatory.

They could both hear Steve covering the absolute basics: Loki being Thor’s adopted brother, Loki’s part in the invasion of New York City by the Chitauri the first time as well as his aid in destroying the last of them alongside the Avengers later when combatting Thanos, and the short-list of highlights from Loki’s recent secretive diplomatic career between most of the nine realms and Asgard just in recent years. They could also hear his annoyed muttering when his conclusion was cut off by noise from the gathered photographers near the front, and the fans toward the back, alike; the noise, of course, was inspired by Loki leaning in to kiss his new lover, slow and possessive and passionate, over an international media broadcast.

“Mr. Lyesmithe, what are your intentions toward Anthony Stark and the earth, respectively?” was the first question Steve permitted, not long after the kissing finally stopped.

“My intentions toward Anthony are to remain in his company, because being near to him makes me happy,” Loki said simply. “My intentions toward earth are generally peaceful, in an indifferent manner, but I’m taking this occasion to announce to any person or persons who may contemplate threatening my life or Tony’s: you will not emerge unscarred from such folly, if indeed you survive at all.”

“He’s a bit old-fashioned, you see,” Tony said, into his own microphone. “And personal honor supersedes the importance of diplomatic restraint, in Asgardian culture and in all interplanetary law currently applicable to the nine interdependent realms of Yggdrasil, which is the topic of another press release later this week, primarily with Dr. Banner and Thor Odinson both, along with several world leaders.”

“Mr. Lyesmithe, are you also ‘a bit’ in love with Mr. Stark?”

“To say ‘a bit’ in love would be an understatement, for me, personally,” the trickster corrected, with what appeared (to any who truly knew him) to be frightful sincerity, “No, rather I love Tony Stark with my whole heart.”

The next photo-op was the one that would be on the front of so many newspapers and other publications in the coming hours and days; the image of Tony Stark entwining his fingers with the longer ones of the god of mischief in order to tug that hand closer to his lips, and kiss Loki’s knuckles reverently. The god, in turn, looked at him like the promise of over a thousand years wherein he could not possibly find himself bored, and like he would burn to nothingness any world that would dare come between himself and this man.

Tony never mentioned that the public claiming turned him on like nothing else; that Loki’s eyes holding his stare throughout, so steadily, had melted his heart, or that the trickster’s frightfully apparent sincerity making even the likes of Thor gawk a bit in open disbelief had made Tony want to melt into a puddle in his seat. He only provided witty and philosophically fearsome statements while looking more at Loki than his questioners. Similarly, Loki was fixated on him, even as he answered myriad questions about Thanos, the Chitauri, and even Odin a little bit, seemingly without being too bothered, so long as the frankness of his answers continued to make Midgard’s Iron Man look like he was melting inside just a little, despite clearly trying to keep his masks up for the press otherwise.

With the press increasingly in uproar as they both answered questions, despite Steve’s attempts to keep them in line, the pair of mad showmen kept smiling into the chaos and the attention, reflecting the brilliance and absorbing enough that they both seemed to glow with it, like a pile of broken glass hit just at the right angle by the light of the sun. The rest of the questions didn’t mean much, after that, they both knew. The picture they made, in various shots by then, would speak for them, and speak loudly: _all that matters to us is our love; if you dare threaten that, we both will make you pay dearly_.

And that was what mattered.

 

~~

 

“How exactly are you already a media darling?” Clint growled, the next morning, as Tony and Loki took turns picking up different papers or magazines from a large pile spread across the coffee table by the Stark Industries PR team, usually to laugh at them.

“Actually, a fair number of these continue to irritatingly question Tony’s sanity over his involvement with me,” Loki drawled.

“The reverse is also true, though, more than you might think,” the inventor pointed out. “There’s an awful lot of theories as to what sort of apocalypse you’d bring down if I ever ‘slipped back into the playboy lifestyle’ which, well,” he snorted. “Unlikely.”

“Is it really?” the archer asked, sincerely curious. “With you?”

A blush crawled up the back of Tony’s neck and he cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m certain it’s very unlikely. It’s a wolf thing, drop it.”

“Oh but now _I_ am curious,” Loki purred.

The inventor swore.

“I think he’s referring to the part where wolves mate for life,” Natasha said, reading one of the better articles herself, not even looking up.

Now Tony was tomato-red from his hairline to his collarbones.

“Oh,” said the trickster, low and awed and affectionate.

The inventor glanced at him side-long. “Uhm. Yeah. It took me a while to figure out because I’d never been, uhm, quite so seriously involved, before, with instincts all intact,” he muttered quietly. “Between jealous reactions to seeing other people make any moves to touch you, to getting more indignant than usual at other people not-you touching me at all unexpectedly, that seems to be what my subconscious has sort of decided on. Yes. That. You’re still staring at me.”

“I’m in love with you. Is staring at the one I adore not expected?”

Tony grinned a little, despite himself, bright and gleeful. “No, but you could also be kissing me right now, and I think I’d prefer tha---mmhm-” Cut off by a sudden kiss, he sighed contently into it.

“Natasha, please stop encouraging them. I think I need to go get some teeth pulled; there’s no saving them. The sugary sweetness has just outright rotted the-HEY! AUGH!” he shouted, under the sudden barrage of throw-pillows all aimed at his face and stomach, suddenly launched from the couch Loki and the inventor occupied.

“Do shut up, and let me enjoy my love,” said the trickster, and kissed Tony again, still more firmly.

Tony grinned into it, keeping it teasingly sweet.

Today, they would deal with the political fallout, but now, he was more than certain they could conquer whatever the media might throw at them. Now, he was genuinely looking forward to watching Loki drive the rest of the world as crazy as he could tend to drive the Avengers.

 _Good_ , was all Tony could think of that. _Perfect._

It wasn’t world domination, but he had a feeling it would still be enough to keep Loki around for a long while, and that was definitely, definitely perfect too.

With the first calls piling up on hold with JARVIS, the trickster smirked against his lips and said, “Let’s give them a show.”

_Yes. Perfect. This one._

And Tony had every intention of keeping him.

“For you, Loki, always.”


	3. Epilogue: Brief Fanboy Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is worried about meeting his lover's… closest kin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The result of recent Tumblr promptings.

Leave it to JARVIS to lure the Aesir’s idea of a potential magic-based singularity to Tony Stark’s doorstep.

 

Tony wished he were offended, but to be honest, he was trying not to panic, fret, and pace around the boundaries of his territory.

 

Loki had caught on instantly, and pinioned him to the couch by devious means like wrapping long arms loosely about him and speaking low and affectionate in his ear, and generally making it impossible for Tony to muster sufficient willpower to pull away.

 

“I’m not afraid or anything!” Tony whined, once the initial shock wore off and he reluctantly relaxed, leaning back against the trickster’s chest. He was more relaxed, but still buzzing under the surface wit an uncertain nebula of emotional reaction.

 

His lover, the god of lies, wanted to introduce his own son to JARVIS, because they had startlingly similar origins (as far as the intentions of those who wound up responsible for giving them life, and eventually freedom as well as full sentience) and also of COURSE Fenrir wanted to… meet… Tony Stark.

The full weight of having considered “blessed of Fenrir” to be a core component of his own identity for decades hit him right in the daddy issues, despite the fact he had sex with Fenrir’s father on a very frequent basis. As ever, knowing and seeing firsthand, and the anticipation of the leap from the former to the latter, were all very different things. Add in an extra dose of ever-increasing-regret over his decision to spend years in a state of heavy sensory sedation for the sake of being less-wolfish being a still-fresh pivotal event in his life, and the prospect of meeting the Mark I version of that very wolf… made him feel terrified of the prospect of being somehow a disappointment.

 

He tried to explain as much, but had lowered his head again, and thus was slightly muffled by Loki’s shirt, and shoulder.

 

The trickster still more than got the gist, as he always tended to. “You could not possibly disappoint him. You save my life and improve it, every day, just by breathing. He’s wanted that alone for me for an embarrassingly long while for me to admit to, Tony.”

 

“… I’m also not saying no to the meeting idea.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I just-”

 

“I understand, my love.”

 

Tony sighed heavily, with only a hint of canid whine. “I’m being a fanboy.”

 

“A little.”

 

“… Of _your son_.”

 

Loki kissed the top of his head. “And I am both vain myself enough, and sufficiently proud of my son, to consider that only a sign of your good taste.”

 

The inventor considered, and some of his embarrassment refreshingly evaporated. That was good. It was an unfamiliar sensation and he’d hated it. “Good.”

 

“Next Thursday afternoon?”

 

“Yeah. Perfect.” Tony tried to stop a small voice deep inside screaming. It was making his face heat back up again. Dammit.


End file.
